


Five Doors Down

by CPFics



Series: The Muskequeers [6]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Agender Character, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Genderfluid Character, Multi, Other, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-21
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-02-05 14:30:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1821841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CPFics/pseuds/CPFics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by a Tumblr post which suggested "THE MAILMAN DELIVERED A WEIRD PACKAGE (sEX TOYSSS) TO THE WRON GHOUSE AU" - I just couldn't let it go.</p><p>The actions of a careless postman lead to Athos and d'Artagnan meeting the couple who recently moved into the house five doors down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Doors Down

D’Artagnan signed for the parcel, nodded his thanks to the postman and turned back inside, kicking the door closed behind him. He wandered into the kitchen.

“Athos, did you order something recently?” he called to his partner, who was watching TV in the living room.

“Oh, yes, I ordered some paint brushes so we can start redecorating our room,” Athos said, getting up to see. D’Artagnan was already running a penknife through the tape holding the parcel closed. He pulled it open.

“That’s… not paintbrushes,” said Athos slowly. They reached in and pulled out the box inside. “We’re going to struggle to paint the room with that.”

“Is that a dildo?” d’Artagnan asked, his voice half an octave higher than usual. Athos smirked at him.

“Yes, it is,” they said.

“Why did it come here?” d’Artagnan said, examining the stickers on the top of the parcel. “Oh. Fuck.”

“What?”

“Wrong address. It’s meant for number _thirty_ -six. Quick, put it back, tape it up, we’ll pretend we didn’t open it.”

Athos laughed.

“Are you that embarrassed about this?” they asked.

D’Artagnan glared at them.

“I’m not embarrassed. I’m more concerned about the fact that opening someone else’s mail is a _criminal offense_.”

Athos put the box back into the parcel, rolling his eyes.

“I’m sure they won’t press charges.”

Athos pulled their coat off the back of the chair and put it on.

“Come on,” they said. “We’ll drop it round.”

“OK,” said d’Artagnan, grabbing his own coat, “but you’re doing all the talking.”

They wandered down the road, reading the house numbers out loud as they passed to try to diffuse some of the awkwardness of the situation. D’Artagnan paused when they reached the gate of number thirty-six, allowing Athos to go first and ring the doorbell. A few seconds later it was opened by a large, solid but friendly-looking man.

“Alright there?” he asked.

“Ah, yes, it’s just, um, we’re from number twenty-six and your parcel got delivered to us instead and we opened it before we realised our mistake,” said Athos, holding the parcel out to the man.

“Ah, no problem,” he said, taking the parcel. “I’m Porthos, by the way.”

“Athos,” said Athos, “and this is my partner, d’Artagnan.” d’Artagnan waved uncomfortably from a few steps behind Athos as Porthos flicked open the parcel to look inside. His eyebrows shot up and d’Artagnan could feel himself blushing.

“I do apologise,” said Porthos with a dry smirk, “this’ll be for _my_ partner. Ne likes to surprise me.”

Porthos turned to shout, “Aramis!” into the house, and Athos and d’Artagnan took the opportunity to share a look in response to the pronoun. A few moments later, Aramis arrived at Porthos’ shoulder.

“What’s this?” ne said, looking into the box over Porthos’ shoulder. “Oh, you found your surprise!”

“Actually, Athos and d’Artagnan did,” said Porthos. “It got delivered to their house.”

“Oh,” said Aramis, looking up at the two people standing awkwardly on the doorstep. “ _Oh_.”

Athos cleared their throat awkwardly. Luckily, Aramis seemed adept at breaking awkward silences.

“I’ve just made tea,” ne said. “Would you like to come in for a cup? I might be able to find some cake and biscuits somewhere.”

Athos looked over their shoulder to d’Artagnan, who shrugged, and turned back to Aramis.

“Sure,” they said.

They all followed Aramis through to the kitchen, where ne immediately set about hastily clearing clutter off the table.

“Sorry about the mess,” ne said. “We only moved in a couple of weeks ago and we still haven’t really got round to sorting out what’s going to go where.”

“No problem,” said Athos. “We’ve lived here for nearly a year, and neither have we.”

Aramis gave a relieved laugh at that, as Porthos set the cups on the table with a carton of milk, a bowl of sugar and a handful of teaspoons.

“So how did you two meet?” Porthos asked, spooning sugar into his tea.

“Oh, it wasn’t that interesting really. I met Athos in a bar, they bought me a drink, you know how it goes,” said d’Artagnan.

“What about you two?” asked Athos.

“It’s hard to give an exact answer,” said Aramis. “We went to the same school, we ended up becoming friends, and then we were lovers, and then we were living together, and then we were moving here with four boxes of wedding magazines.”

“You’re getting married?” said Athos, trying not to examine too closely the small twinge of disappointment they felt. Porthos nodded.

“Once we’ve got the house sorted out, and everything else, yeah.”

\--

“They’re nice,” said d’Artagnan as he and Athos walked back to their own house. Athos hummed in agreement. “And attractive.”

Athos smirked at that.

“Yes, they are,” they said.

“I was thinking…” d’Artagnan began. Athos glanced at him. “Maybe we could try… toys.”

Athos shrugged.

“OK.”

D’Artagnan gave a small laugh of relief.

\----

They lay curled together late into the next morning. Athos was just beginning to think they should probably get up and get things done, when d’Artagnan spoke.

“You know when we first got together, and that one time we discussed the possibility of including other people in our relationship?” he asked, running his fingers over Athos’ collarbone.

“Are you thinking of Aramis and Porthos?” Athos asked, smirking. D’Artagnan nodded and looked up at them, relieved and hopeful. “Well, I would certainly be willing, if you were, and they were. But they’re getting married - that seems like a pretty final, closed relationship kind of thing.”

D’Artagnan grinned.

“Looks like we’ll have to get our charm on and find out,” he said.

\--

“Just coming!” Athos called - four days later - as they leaped out of bed in response to the doorbell. D’Artagnan groaned sleepily and rolled over. They ran down the stairs and pulled the door open. It was Aramis. Athos was suddenly very aware at their hair was a complete mess and they were only wearing ratty pyjama bottoms. They were also very aware that Aramis was wearing a loose, very see-through top through which they could see every curve of nir body, and _incredibly_ tight skinny jeans. It was very distracting.

Aramis raised an eyebrow at them.

“In a somewhat embarrassing turn of events,” ne said, “we just got given your parcel, and we might have also opened it before we realised our mistake.”

“Oh,” Athos couldn’t help but laugh at how Aramis’ words had mirrored their own from the previous week, but they could also feel a blush creeping up their neck at the thought of what was in the parcel, and the fact that Aramis and Porthos must have worked out that they’d ordered it not long after their visit.

“You know,” said Aramis, as d’Artagnan appeared at Athos’ shoulder, “we already have one of those. You could have just asked, and saved yourself the money. In fact, you’re welcome to anything from our extensive collection.”

Aramis’ voice had taken on a mock-salesperson tone, and d’Artagnan giggled behind Athos. Athos smirked.

“Maybe we’ll take you up on that,” they said.

Aramis smiled.

“Yes, well, best be getting back. Porthos wants to get the house sorted ASAP so we can start on the wedding plans.” Ne waved and walked back down the path. Athos shut the door and turned to d’Artagnan.

“I think we should complain to the Royal Mail,” they said.

“Complain?” d’Artagnan said. “I was thinking we should send them flowers.”

Athos leaned forward to give d’Artagnan a quick kiss.

“So,” they said, “you wanna try this thing out?”

D’Artagnan shot back up the stairs as if his life depended on it.

\--

The next time the doorbell rang a few days later, it was Porthos, and d’Artagnan answered.

“Are you free on the first of next June?” Porthos asked.

“I’ll check,” said d’Artagnan. “Come in.”

Porthos followed d’Artagnan through to the kitchen, where they had a calendar hanging on the wall. Athos looked up from their book and waved at Porthos as d’Artagnan flicked through to the back page, where there was a little mini-calendar for the whole of the next year.

“Doesn’t look like we’re doing anything,” d’Artagnan said.

“Good,” said Porthos. “Keep it free. You’re invited to our wedding.”

Athos put his book down at that.

“Really?”

“Yeah, well,” said Porthos, “you’re the first people we met after we moved in, so. In fact, you’re still the only people we know here.”

He paused and then spoke again.

“And while we’re on the subject, are you doing anything tonight?”

Athos sat up.

“Nothing beyond watching a few hours of crap telly.”

“Don’t suppose you fancy going out somewhere, like a… double date kinda thing?”

“Sure,” said d’Artagnan. Athos nodded. Porthos beamed and bobbed his head.

“Great,” he said. “How about we come get you at six? Is the Birch Tree in town good for you?”

“Sounds good,” said d’Artagnan as he opened the door to let Porthos out. “We’ll see you then.”

D’Artagnan closed the door behind Porthos and went back to the living room, where he collapsed into Athos’ lap. Athos wrapped their arms around him and drew him against their chest. D’Artagnan was failing to suppress a grin.

“Don’t get too excited,” Athos warned. “It might not mean anything.”

D’Artagnan dropped his head onto their shoulder with a groan.

“You’re so pessimistic,” he said.

“I just don’t want you to get your hopes up and then be upset,”

D’Artagnan slapped them lightly on the chest.

“I wouldn’t be so petty,” he said. Athos smirked.

“I think we both know you would.”

\--

“What are you wearing?” d’Artagnan asked Athos as they emerged from the bathroom, towelling their hair dry. He appeared to have turned his entire wardrobe out onto the bed. Athos sighed.

“I haven’t even thought about it yet,”

“Well,” said d’Artagnan, opening up Athos’ side of the wardrobe, “the thing I most like to see you in is… this shirt and… these trousers. And roll your sleeves up.”

He threw the clothes at Athos as he pulled them out.

“Now, what about me?” he asked. Athos considered the clothes strewn over the bed in front of them.

“This shirt,” they said, picking one out, “and those black skinny jeans.”

The changed quickly, and a few minutes later a car horn sounded outside. Athos looked around, patting their pockets, going through a mental checklist of everything they needed to have on them.

“Athos, _come on_ ,” said d’Artagnan, grabbing their hand and pulling them out the door.

“Wait!” Athos protested, hastily grabbing their keys as d’Artagnan dragged them through the hall.

They locked the door behind them, and then d’Artagnan was pulling them again, until they found themselves sitting next to him in the back seat of Porthos’ car.

“Hi,” they said a little breathlessly, once their brain had caught up. Porthos was looking gorgeous in a dark red turtle-neck and black jeans, while Aramis was wearing a little black dress that Athos decided they’d be better off not looking at, lest they found themselves unable to look away again.

“All set?” Porthos called back, putting the car into gear.

“Yep!” said d’Artagnan as he did up his seat belt, and Porthos pulled away.

“You’re coming to the wedding then?” Aramis asked after a moment, twisting in nir seat. Athos tried to ignore the way it made nir skirt rise up nir thigh. 

“Definitely,” they said, forcing their eyes back to Aramis’ face. Ne smirked, and Athos worried for a moment that they’d been caught staring. But Aramis continued: 

“We’re planning to go to Paris for the honeymoon. Porthos says that’s corny and cliché, but he loves the romance of it really.”

“You keep telling yourself that, love,” said Porthos, flashing a grin at Athos and d’Artagnan via the rearview mirror.

“He likes to pretend he’s too tough to be involved in things like romance,” Aramis whispered to them conspiratorially, “but actually he’s just a big softie.”

“Stop giving away all my secrets, would you?” Porthos shot at nem. Aramis smirked at him and turned back to face the front.

“You two aren’t tying the knot anytime soon, then?” Aramis asked, and Porthos gave nem a look that clearly said, _stop prying_. Athos and d’Artagnan looked at each other uncertainly.

“Uh… we haven’t really… discussed it at all,” said Athos, watching d’Artagnan’s reaction to make sure they didn’t say anything wrong, and letting out a little sigh of relief when d’Artagnan nodded his agreement.

“I mean, I don’t think either of us necessarily have anything _against_ it…” said d’Artagnan warily.

“No, not at all,” Athos put in at once, keen to reassure him. Aramis giggled with delight.

“Maybe you should,” said Aramis, making Porthos hiss nir name at nem in a warning tone. Athos and d’Artagnan swapped shy smiles before turning away.

They pulled into the restaurant car park a minute later, and filed inside.

\--

Aramis was even more giggly on the way home: as Porthos was the designated driver, ne had apparently decided to drink for both of them, and was decidedly tipsy.

“Would you like to come in?” ne asked as ne climbed out of the car, still impressively steady on nir high-heeled feet. Athos and d’Artagnan agreed that they would, and they followed Porthos and Aramis inside.

Porthos took a seat in an armchair in the living room, and Aramis immediately situated nemself in his lap, and buried nir face in his neck. D’Artagnan and Athos sat down on the sofa.

“Sorry about nem,” Porthos said exasperatedly, though he wrapped his hands fondly around nir waist. “Ne gets a bit over-the-top sometimes.”

Athos and d’Artagnan waved the apology away, and they all lapsed into an awkward silence, which this time Aramis didn’t leap to fill. Instead, ne poked Porthos in the chest, to which Porthos responded by pinching nir waist, and ne slapped his hand away. Porthos sighed.

“We were wondering…” he said slowly, “whether you wanted to, uh…”

"If you wanted to stay the night," supplied Aramis, frustrated with Porthos' hesitation. Athos and d'Artagnan looked at each other.

"As in...?" Athos asked.

"As in you two spending the night, here, with us, together," Aramis said. Ne'd started nervously twisting Porthos' jumper between nir forefinger and thumb. 

"I, uh, yes," said d'Artagnan.

"Yes," Athos agreed. Porthos and Aramis both visibly relaxed, and smiled in relief. Aramis pushed nemself from Porthos’ lap and walked over to the sofa to stand in front of Athos. Ne held out nir hand and pulled them to their feet, leading them into the middle of the room. Ne reached up and tucked a stray piece of hair behind their ear. Athos exhaled slowly.

“You want to stop or slow down at any time, just say,” said Aramis, glancing at d’Artagnan to make sure he knew he was included. He and Athos nodded. Aramis flattened nir hand against Athos’ cheek, cupped their jaw and closed the distance between them, bringing their lips together ever so lightly. Athos pulled their hand free of Aramis’ and wrapped both arms around nir waist, pulling nem closer and deepening the kiss.

D’Artagnan tore his eyes from the scene in front of him to glance at Porthos, only to find the other man already looking back at him. Porthos beckoned him over. He got up and crossed over to Porthos, jumping slightly when he felt Aramis pinch his arse as he passed nem, but before he could do anything else, Porthos had reached out and pulled him backwards into his lap. Porthos wrapped his arms around d’Artagnan’s waist, pulling him closer, and d’Artagnan could feel Porthos already getting hard beneath him.

“Aren’t they gorgeous together?” Porthos breathed into d’Artagnan’s ear, brushing his lips against his skin. D’Artagnan’s breath hitched.

“Yes,” he said, moaning quietly as Porthos moved from his ear to his neck, catching the skin between his lips and teeth.

Aramis broke away from Athos and turned to look at Porthos and d’Artagnan, smirking at the glazed look on d’Artagnan’s face. Ne heard Athos give a quiet huff of laughter.

“Bedroom,” said Aramis, taking Athos and d’Artagnan by the hands and leading them towards the stairs, Porthos following behind. Ne hurried up ahead of them, and Athos caught a tantalising glimpse of pale pink silk and lace beneath nir skirt.

Aramis pulled open the bedroom door and stood back to let Athos, d’Artagnan and Porthos past, receiving a quick kiss from the last before ne pushed the door closed. Ne crossed straight over to d’Artagnan, pushing him down onto the bed with a strong, one-armed shove to his chest, and crawled over him, kissing him hard as ne began to undo the buttons on his shirt.

Porthos went to Athos and began working on their shirt, as they pushed their hands beneath his jumper and began to drag it up his chest, but they were distracted when d’Artagnan drew his hands up Aramis’ thighs, rucking up nir skirt and leaving nir knickers on full display. Porthos chuckled in their ear.

“Quite something, isn’t ne?” he asked, as he pushed their shirt off their shoulders and dropped a kiss on the bared skin, so that Athos didn’t know what to focus on first. d’Artagnan slipped his fingers beneath the silk and Athos had to dig their fingers into Porthos’ chest to steady themselves. Porthos chuckled again and lifted Athos up, carried them over to the bed and pressed them down onto it, pausing to finish removing his jumper from where Athos had pushed it up into his armpits.

D’Artagnan broke away from Aramis for a moment, reaching over to take Athos’ hand in his. Athos squeezed his hand and smiled back at him, and he grinned in response. At that moment Porthos slipped his knee between Athos’ thighs, and they turned their attention back to him, as Aramis reclaimed d’Artagnan’s mouth.

For a while they simply kissed, letting their hands and mouths explore each other’s half-undressed bodies, swapping partners and moving closer together until they were one big tangle of limbs. At last, Aramis extricated nemself from the fray.

“So,” ne said, looking between Athos and d’Artagnan. “What do you want?”

“I-” said d’Artagnan, turning to Athos, mind blank. Athos looked back at him, feeling equally clueless.

“OK, first things first,” said Aramis, taking control, “get your pants off. Then, Porthos, darling, sit back against the headboard.”

Porthos did as he was told, while Aramis pulled nir dress off over nir head. Ne went to pull nir knickers off too, but Athos stopped nem.

“Wait,” they said, and Aramis turned to them. “Keep them on.”

Aramis raised an eyebrow for a second, then smirked.

“OK. D’Art, come here, we need you kneeling astride Porthos’ lap, facing away from him. That’s it.” Porthos immediately drew d’Artagnan back against his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around him and trailing kisses across his shoulders. Aramis grabbed a bottle of lube from the bedside table, and two condoms, one of which ne handed to Porthos, and the other to Athos. Ne crawled across the bed, coming to kneel in front of d’Artagnan, facing him, then pulled Athos up behind nem, facing the same way. Once they’d put the condoms on, ne poured some lube into Porthos’ hand, then some into Athos’.

“You OK with this?” ne asked d’Artagnan as one either side of them Athos and Porthos spread the lube over their fingers. D’Artagnan nodded, face eager, and Aramis drew him in for a kiss. Ne felt Athos slide their clean hand over nir silk-clad buttocks, and sighed into d’Artagnan’s mouth as they slipped their fingers inside and pulled them down as far as they would go.

D’Artagnan inhaled sharply as Porthos slid his first finger into him, then relaxed, moaning filthily against Aramis’ lips in a way that drove nem mad, and ne bit back a cry as Athos’ finger entered nem. Ne braced nir hands against d’Artagnan’s hips as Athos opened nem up, and d’Artagnan in turn wrapped his hands around nir biceps.

At last Athos withdrew their fingers and pushed into Aramis with their cock, and a few moments later Porthos followed suit with d’Artagnan. Aramis clutched d’Artagnan’s hips hard enough to leave marks, and d’Artagnan’s fingers tightened around nir arms. Ne leaned forward and recaptured his mouth, moaning as Athos began to thrust into nem, their hands sliding down nir thighs and caressing the silk and lace stretched between them, their mouth tracing over nir shoulder, back and neck.

Porthos had buried his face in d’Artagnan’s hair, inhaling his scent as he thrust into him. His hands were splayed over d’Artagnan’s chest, feeling his muscles flex beneath his fingers as they all moved together, rubbing his fingers over the younger man’s nipples.

Aramis took d’Artagnan’s cock in nir hand, and it only took a few strokes to have him coming into the space between them, leaving splatter marks all over their arms, chests and legs. Porthos thrust into him a few more times before he came too, and the two of them slumped back against the headboard.

Athos took Aramis’ cock in one hand and cradled nir balls in the other, stroking in time with their thrusts. Aramis leaned right back against them, dropping nir head back onto their shoulder, and Athos bit down on nir exposed neck, sucking hard. Aramis came with a cry, his seed mixing with d’Artagnan’s, and with a few more thrusts Athos came too.

Porthos had pulled out of d’Artagnan and was tying off the condom as Athos was pulling out of Aramis. He tossed it at the bin, and missed.

“I’m not getting that,” he said, pulling d’Artagnan against his chest and closing his eyes. D’Artagnan let himself be man-handled, sprawling over Porthos. Aramis, still leaning against Athos, sighed heavily. Ne took the condom from Athos, dragged nemself to the edge of the bed, knickers round nir thighs, and tossed both condoms into the bin. Then ne pulled a towel from the bedside table and wiped nemself off, before throwing it to d’Artagnan to clean up before he and Porthos stuck together.

Once they’d all sorted themselves out, they collapsed in a heap against the pillows, wrapping themselves in one another’s arms. Porthos caught Athos’ eye.

“Maybe next time we can get some of the toys involved, eh?” he said. Athos and d’Artagnan grinned, and Aramis hummed happily.


End file.
